The Dreamer's World
by BigMacintoshX
Summary: Spin-off of the "Wheel of Time" series in Equestria, with different characters, and lore, set in Equestria. The Pulse has been heard, and only the sun and Moon have heard it. They stand resolute for their people, and yet they are more terrified than they've ever been. The Warrior of Ages and the Ancient have appeared. Will their presence save them from evils forgotten?
1. Prologue

_Author's note: This is a story that will have shorter chapters, longer chapters, etc. I will update it on a weekly to biweekly, perhaps sometimes daily basis. It depends on my schedule and what I have time for. And I hope that you like it._

It'd been a long time. Too long for comfort, for the Pulse to be heard. There was an uncertainty in the air as the Day walked around in circles, her brow laced with tiredness, alongside a form of disgrace that told her, "It was coming." Her tail swayed slowly back and forth, her hooves clacking along gently as she waited. Waited for the Pulse. The Day's back seemed to arch in a sensation of pain, wracked with the weight that she'd carried all these times. She knew it was going to happen. It simply had to happen, as it was foretold by her, and the others before her.

But now, she knew not what to do with it.

"Sister!" a young voice echoed throughout the hall, slamming door heard just before it. The ornate walls were hung with banners of guilds long past, the Legends of Men and Ages gone as the time of the World spun on. Time saw all, was all that was, was all that is, and is what is all. Yet time simply forgot,taxing itself with the endless journey that went back and forth, left and right, up and down. Time simply went on; and this was what the banners meant. Time forgot, and Man did not. The young voice echoed some time down the rest of the hall that the body had been flowing through. "Sister! Sister! S...ister.." This was the Night's boding.

The Day had stopped her pacing finally, her wonderous face delighted with grim that caused the voice to stop dead in its steps. Her eyes were that of a darkened magenta that passed with the times, seeing much of history since she'd been in rule. They scanned the barely shorter voice, her just barely younger sister. A tall, slender woman, her growth had been somewhat stunted when they were still… not children. Something else, something weaker than the ages now. She'dve stood a story higher had she been more careful during that time, to not channel too much. Her face was just as wonderous as her sister's, a dark, deep blue as the ocean reflecting the night skies that laced her eyes; and her skin tone much darker to combat the Day's pristine, fair skin. Her skin was calloused and rough, as if she was a miner; but still they appeared as young as the day she'd accepted herself. She'd been in power during the Darkness, during the first Pulse. This was the Night.

"Could you feel it, Sun?" the Night asked, preferring to use titles instead of names. The Night had always been the more formal one, for her cyclings required much more finesse than that of the Day, for she had to move many more stars than the one that gave the Light to the Day's mind. Still, she was the Day's proceedings, and they were still sisters. Even after the Darkness.

The banners of the Ages of Men swayed cautiously, their frayed, old edges stained with the bareness of the flames that'd happened barely a century before. "I did," the Day said quietly, her breathing troubled as always these days. Her chest rose and fell as the day and night, slow and gentle, a bare wheeze follows however; giving the Night distinction to a guide of thought that she was more troubled about the Pulse than anything.

"Oh goodness, Day, this time it was so strong… I woke up during my nap…" the Night says softly, sighing discontentedly. "The Dream sent out the Pulse, sister…" She pauses, her own breathing picking up slightly with the same form of troubled moods that plague the Day.

The Day's eyes quickly widen, their bloodshot edges more promiscuous to the eye with this simple motion. With pursed lips, her voice reaches a somewhat shrill tone as she speaks. "What do you mean that the Dream sent the pulse? The Dream has not spoken since the Beginning of the Age." Her voice both that of a shrill, and a slight snarl causes the Night to slip, and a faint wince follows.

"Sister, the Dream spoke; the wise voice of Time and Itself sent the Pulse. I swear upon the Dreams," she says softly, the seriousness in her own chords causing her sister to wince vicariously, as if she'd been slapped roughly. "The Dream had spoken and sent the Pulse, sister," she whispers, slowly approaching her sister. The Night waves her hand, and a set of chairs appears between the two sisters, a wispy cloud of Aura rolling off of them. A snap of her hand causes another little table to arrive next, a kettle of hot tea next, the Aura flowing too off of the objects. The Night sat down.

"Sister, do you know what this means?" the Day asks quietly, her eyes closing slowly as she steps to sit upon the chair, following the suit of her sister. "The Dream, speaking? Time has decided to take a trip uphill, or sideways… The Pulse… a speaking? What do you mean 'speaking,' sister?"

"I converse only of the truth revealing Itself once more," the Night says with a dip of her head into the tea cup, sipping at it lightly. She pulls her lips up again, barely stained with the disdain of the taste. "Bah… not even jasmine…" The Day gives her a stern look, urging her to continue instead of acting as a child with a disappointing toy. "Right… The truth… Time had walked with it hand in hand, the Dream said…"

"The Dream sent the Pulse, the Pulse that had been sent only once before our Time, sister," she says with a soft breath. "I'd been sleeping when the Pulse had occurred, washing over me and thrusting unto me like a wave upon a beach, Day. The warning had gone outward, not unheard. I am sure that there was more than just me that had desired to not feel that wave anymore. Yet… the screams came. They came, and came, and came after the Pulse; even larger than the wave that'd driven me to the brink, sister. I looked down at them from above, in the palace… They were terrified, and silenced in a moment's notice."

"Sister, this can only mean one thing…" she says softly. "The Pulse… the silencings… They can only be tell of one thing," she says softly.

The Night raises her brow. "What would that be, Day?" she asks.

"The Warrior of the Ages and the Ancient are returning," she says

"Vashtar''s Fall…" the Night says quietly. "I did not think of the Pulse this way…"

"Say not his name… not in this place…" the Day responds in a hushed tone.

The Pulse has been heard.


	2. Chapter 1: Sirius

A lithe elf, clad in dark clothing and even darker skin, let out a small breath as he analyzed the situation before him. His lengthy ears twitched gently, and he slowly began to bring a bow to his cheek, the silent weapon not even making a single decibel of sound. The arrow notched was laden with a strong anesthetic. Even if his target hadn't died from the arrow, he'd still be able to track it down and harvest it; his target being a large deer, standing at an equivalent height to him, and weighing much more.

_Tsk! _The arrow flew, straight and long, meeting its target at the rendezvous of death; right along the base of the neck, at the jugular. As the animal fell, a rather loud thud scared a few rabbits below. "Good," the man's voice whispers. "Excellent shot…" He praised himself for only a few moments longer before going forward and collecting the arrow, cutting along the outside of the wound to loosen the bolt, and then collect it without too much damage to the internals of the animal. He was going to need it all in tact. Breathing slowly, he began to lift with his legs, pushing the animal onto his shoulders, and tossing it onto the cart that he'd brought. It was a long walk back.

An hour or so later, the man returned home, tossing his keep onto his table, letting out a loud breath of disgruntlement as he let the weight loose. The man then proceeded to pull out a rather large knife, made of some form of black metal; its ornate decoratives lacing it with a pleasant view for the eye of a merchant. He'd gotten it from someone close, long ago. But he could not name them, nor even remember what they looked like. Unsure why the knife sparked his memory over and over whence he'd pulled it from the sheathe, he shivered, casting his memories to the side, and beginning to skin the animal. A slow, deliberate process, it wasn't long before he had a large pile of fur that needed to be tanned.

His eyes ragged with the long day of hunting, he sat down for a meal finally; lamb stew. It wasn't often that a sheep had walked out to his part of the woods from the farms nearby, but the farmers knew that if their flocked had walked off, it would be him that took it. They didn't say much these days, not after he'd saved them from the menace of the nearby Order of White's mercenaries.

Within a few moments of eating his stew, a small piece of paper landed nearby. His brow furrowed, he slurped at his spoon, and picked it up. Scanning it quickly, his brow slowly uncurled itself, and instead became laced with curiosity.

"_Dear Ser Sirius Daystream, your presence is required in the land of Equestria. This note may reach you at any point in time in your plane, but in ours we are in a time of need. We apologize if this causes any inconvenience in the schedule in which you proceed with from life to life._

_In front of you, you shall see the blade you'd called yours, and the set of short-blades in which you'd used whence in the Long Years. Aware we are, you had made both of these (to our information), and abandoned one of them with an ally. -"_

Sirius looked up, blinking several times as he saw the blade and separate dagger that the letter had mentioned. He'd not even remembered having a sword since he was still very, very young. He dropped his spoon into the stew, splattering some of it into his face, causing him to jump at the heat.

"_-As we have said, you might find this to inconvenience you at some point and time; and we apologize. _

_The following process might be painful, as we have never experienced it. We suggest strapping your blade to your side in a familiar position, along with the short-blades. If you have not done this by the time you are reading this sentence, they will have already been strapped to your thigh, and the scabbard at your side. -"_

Looking down, Sirius saw this, and once again dropped the spoon in which he'd picked up and started to eat with absentmindedly.

"_-Please do not crumple this paper, as the process in which we have mentioned previous will begin in a few moments. Have a nice day._

_Signed,_

_Princess Luna; the Moon,_

_Princess Celestia; the Sun."_

Sirius scoffed, his nose wrinkling in a manner of distaste as he ignored the last sentence, and crumpled the paper. Tossing it to the side, he stood quickly, his hand somehow already on the hilt of the sword. He snarled angrily.

"I do not understand what form of sick joke this is!" he growled, his chair falling to the side. A few seconds later, a sudden searing pain in his head began to rise; spreading like a fire across a forest in the dry season, each and every nerve within his mind began to pulse and vibrate, causing him to fall to the ground in all of it. The lithe male began to scream, a scream that made the birds outside stop chirping, the deer that he'd killed a few hours earlier wake up from the dead, and the farmers outside the woods deviate their chores as they looked to the Deepwoods where Sirius resided.

Then there was silence. Without warning, spare the letter, he was gone. The birds began to chirp, the deer put its head back down in the afterlife, the farmers went back to their chores. It was odd, to them all; but life had to continue one day after another. Moon, sun, night, day, over, over, and over again. This was the curse of the world that Sirius lived in. It didn't change; there was nothing to cause it. There was simply silence. This was his curse.


End file.
